What do you think?
Rate this book
368 pages, Hardcover
First published September 4, 2018
This is the story of the summer I disappeared - Cora McCloud
I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more - Dorothy Gale
…the tornado was not an act of God, but an act of nature. The wild had come to Mercy that day, as she and her siblings cowered in the bunker, the full force of the wild had roared above them, erasing everything it touched.Cora McCloud, an adult now, recounts the summer when her brother, Tucker, invited her to join him on what he claimed would be an excellent adventure. It all begins when a very Oklahoman (and Kansan) event shattered the McCloud family. A piece of bad luck in the form of a killer tornado made orphans of the McCloud kids, catching their father before he could make it to shelter. ( I remember Tucker telling me that luck was no lady; luck was a mean drunk who didn’t know when to stop punching.) Mom had not survived Cora’s birth, so it fell to the oldest, Darlene, eighteen, to look after the family. Buh-bye college. Seventeen-year-old Tucker, unable to cope, takes off a few months after the disaster, after a fight with Darlene, falling in with eco-warriors, but has a falling out with them as well and heads home several years later. A local cosmetics plant had been producing noxious chemicals, legally, but the tornado did an excellent job of spreading the stuff around, making neighborhoods uninhabitable, with no one being held responsible for footing the bill or taking care of the cleanup. There were also a lot of animals on the property, used in lab testing. It’s enough to focus the attention of the peripatetic Tucker. Pipe bombs are planted. Damage is done. And Tucker is now a wanted man. Thing is, he also has an amazingly sweet nature, has a way with animals of all sorts, horses in particular, and a special bond with Cora. He asks her to go away with him (”It’s time for magic, Cora,” he said. “Let’s leave this place behind.”) and she signs on to follow his particular and very winding yellow brick road.
Everything native to Oklahoma was tough and warlike. Only the strong survived here. Our snakes came with venom and a warning signal. Our insects were armored against predators and dehydration. Our birds possess talons, telescopic vision and hollow bones. These animals were designed for hardship. All weakness had been driven out of their genetic lineage by the dust storms, the droughts, and the tornadoes.There is some celestial writing here. Geni has poetry in her pen, particularly when writing about nature. And a feel for craft when she applies the images she describes so beautifully to her characters. Here’s an example:
The night was awash with the screech of cicadas. These insects had reached the molting stage of their annual transformation. They first emerged in May as sluggish, flightless, dun-colored beetles, but after enough exposure to heat and sunlight, they would undergo an unpleasant metamorphosis. First they would find a tree or a house or a telephone pole and start to climb—slowly, clumsily, driven by mindless instinct—until they reached a particular height known only to themselves. They would then cling tight, hold still, and gradually become translucent. Their outer skin would slough away. They would burst out through the napes of their former shells and rise into the sky as steel-spun creature with wings as loud as joy buzzers. They left their spent husks everywhere.Geni follows this line of thought to the changes Cora and Tucker are experiencing. They alter their outward appearance to slip beneath police notice, but it nicely reflects an internal metamorphosis as well.
The tornado was a gift, Tucker often said. It opened my eyes. Over the past few weeks, he had explained this to me. Most people, he said, were not capable of understanding the plight of the animals. They were too sheltered to comprehend it. Too safe. Even if they knew the facts and figures, they could not imagine the full measure of that kind of devastation.The McCloud kids were all changed by the devastation wrought by the tornado, but, on their summer-long journey, are Tucker and Cora sloughing off useless shells and becoming more advanced, more aware people? It remains to be seen. Tucker has already chosen a path of violence. Will Cora be swept up by his charisma, by the fairy tales he tells every night of their day’s adventures?
That’s how I used to be too, Tucker said. The tornado changed me. It had stripped away the façade of human civilization. It reminded him that he was an animal too. The scientific terms—loss of habitat, dead zone, on the brink—were not just words anymore. He knew that what it felt like from the inside now.
I began The Wildlands with this idea: a twosome on a crime spree. But I didn’t want to explore romantic love or even friendship; those stories have already been told. I wanted to write about siblings. The relationship between siblings—its power and effect—often goes unexamined. Then I began to wonder what a crime spree would be like for a child. How would it shape her mind? How would it alter her identity? What kind of person would she be afterward? That led me to Cora, and soon after, Tucker. - from Chicago Review of Books interviewDarlene has suffered unspeakable losses, but has stepped up and done her absolute best to take care of her family. She may not have Tucker’s free-spirit energy, but she is more than pulling her weight under insane conditions. So, we have two, maybe three, people here to really, really care about. And you will.
In Tucker, I wanted to write a character who is right in his beliefs but wrong in his actions. He has the facts, he’s fighting for animal rights, and he talks about justice and saving the world. How could Cora not fall under his spell? How could she discern what’s right about his cause but wrong about his choices? Honestly, I agree with Tucker sometimes myself. I’m not on board with his methodology or his violence, but his sense of urgency is something I share. - from the Tinhouse interviewThere is considerable concern here for matters ecological. Tucker may have gone too far with his actions, but his concerns are not bizarre. Is it possible to care too much, or too immaturely? There is a look at the wastefulness of land use in Oklahoma, but also at the remnant wildness of it. Geni offers a nice consideration of the meaning of the title, which I will not spoil here. It is moving, and effective. There is a bit on what are considered Sooner toughness characteristics, although the historical telling made it sound to me more like a celebration of cheating than anything else.
In The Wildlands…I’m writing explicitly about what’s happening to the environment. It’s more urgent than ever. The changes are coming faster than scientists predicted, and the government’s lack of response is terrifying. The Wildlands talks in no uncertain terms about the fact that we are in the middle of the sixth mass extinction on our planet. During the previous mass extinctions on Earth—caused by meteors or volcanoes or natural disasters—up to 90% of all life on earth perished. It’s happening again right now, and this time we’re the cause. - from the Tinhouse interviewCora suffers identity slippage while on the road with Tucker, a real existential crisis. We want her to come back to herself, but there is no certainty she will.
On some level, I understood that something irrevocable had happened. I had crossed a threshold I could not come back from. I did not know yet what it meant for me, but I could feel the transformation; I was changing deep inside, at a level beneath flesh, beneath words.Needing to find out what will happen to Cora, (will she vanish into a new identity?) Tucker, and Darlene will keep you turning the pages. Challenges, real and manufactured, are faced, or not, overcome, or not. The McClouds, to the extent possible, try to be the best people they can be, whether that means huge personal sacrifice in order to step in for late parents, or engaging in various forms of eco-terrorism in order to try righting a global imbalance, whether that means allowing the media to tell their story as a way of keeping food on the table, or kowtowing to town disapproval of what, it is claimed, is profiting from the misery of the whole town, whether that means trying to protect a wayward sibling by keeping information from the police, or trying to protect a wayward sibling by sharing information with the police.